After that chat, Bruce was hooked. He didn’t know why these women were interested in him but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. He could weather the inevitable kidding and snickering at work, secure in the knowledge that he, not they, had been invited to the home of the club’s gorgeous female wrestlers. That thought made him wonder. Did they own the place together? Did they share the house in some kind of communal living arrangement?Oh dear! I'm afraid we will have to wait until next week to discover Bruce's fate.
Bruce found the place easily enough. It was a French country style house, some distance out of the city. A long gravel driveway flanked by trees on each side led to a circular driveway in front of the house. In the middle of the driveway was a fountain that featured water pouring from a pitcher held by a naked cherub. A woman in Grecian robes standing next to the cherub held a flail in her hand. It was an odd piece of sculpture.
He left his car in the driveway with several others and stepped up to the front door. He heard a soft chime ring as he pushed the button. A minute later the door opened and he was greeted by a young and very pretty girl in a frilly maid’s costume. He recognized her as one of the girls from the club. The skirt was scandalously short, coming barely to the tops of her thighs. She wore stockings and high heels that emphasized the lean muscular shape of her legs. The top was low cut and Bruce had to force his gaze away from her cleavage. Around her neck she wore a leather collar with a ring in it. The collar seemed out of sync with the rest of her costume.
She smiled and said “Please follow me. Everyone is out back.”
She turned to lead the way and Bruce followed, his eyes glued to the provocative sway of her hips in that short skirt. Double French doors led to a patio surrounding an expansive swimming pool, and it was here that Bruce’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
All of the ladies from the club were sunbathing, swimming or lounging around the pool in bathing attire that revealed nearly everything. There were half a dozen hot young women in thong bikinis that were barely there displaying acres of white, golden and bronzed female flesh. Bruce took it all in. There were also several men. They wore abbreviated bathing trunks like Speedos and appeared to be catering to the women lounging around the pool, fetching drinks for some, massaging the feet of others, and spreading lotion on sunbathers who were face down in lawn recliners. He stood there, transfixed with awe, and almost did not hear the question proposed to him.
“So how about it, Bruce? Ready for a rematch?”
Bruce turned, startled to see that it was Lara who had addressed him. He gulped. Lara was a formidable woman in just about any attire, but clad in a tiny black bikini, she was overwhelming. Standing at over six feet tall, her black hair spilling down, breasts straining against the tiny confines of her bikini top, she was a vision of female strength and power. Bruce was just glad he wasn’t being asked to wrestle her.
“Uh, sure,” said Bruce.
Tawny, a/k/a Jen, stood back, hands on her hips. She smiled at him, but it was a not a warm smile, it was almost a smirk. Two girls dragged a mat over onto a part of the lawn. Interest perked up among the men and women around the pool who saw something was about to happen. A crowd began to assemble, spacing themselves around the mat. Bruce noted the gleeful expressions on some of the faces, especially the women’s. The men were more subdued, as if they knew that what was about to happen did not bode well for him.
Lara assumed control of the festivities. “We have a rematch,” she announced. “Bruce here will take another shot at Jen for the usual wager. If he wins, her ass is his. If he loses, he will be our houseboy for today – with the customary initiation ceremony.”
Everyone murmured approval. A few clapped and whistled. There was laughter. Bruce was alarmed. Initiation ceremony? What had she meant by that?
“But first,” she said. “We have an item of business. Those in our household know that we have a demerit system. The one having the largest number of demerits for the past week must serve as ‘maid for a day’ and must also accept her punishment for bad behavior. We do this on Sunday, which is today. Since we are all gathered now to see Bruce square off with Jen, we might as well take care of the demerits. Gina?” Lara looked toward the French doors where the pretty girl in the French maid’s outfit stood.
“Yes, Lara,” she said in a small voice. To Bruce she sounded nervous.
“It’s time girl. Go get the paddle and come right back out here.”
Now there was visible excitement and Bruce immediately understood why. Someone was going to get it. Gina returned a few moments later. In her hand was a short strap, maybe a foot long and a few inches wide secured to a handle. To Bruce, it had the look of an implement that was all business. It looked wicked.
Lara snapped her fingers at one of the men. “Fetch me a chair, Gregory.” As Gregory rushed to do her bidding, she added, “I should not have to tell you, Gregory. You should have known what I needed. We’ll have a little talk about that later.” Bruce could see Gregory blush red with embarrassment while others chuckled. Just what had she meant by a “little talk?”
Gregory grabbed an armless chair and brought it over next to the pool. He placed it behind Lara and she proceeded to sit while the bikini-clad club girls and the men moved closer then fanning out in a semi circle surrounding Gina who stood silently holding the strap.
“Well, Gina dear, it seems like you are our unlucky winner this week.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “So many household demerits.” Then Bruce saw Lara looking at him. He knew he must have looked confused, because Lara said, “I see our guest is wondering just what in the world is going on. Well, I’ll tell you, as Gina brings herself right over here. Come on Gina. Bring momma the paddle.” She gestured with her hand. As Gina walked toward Lara, seated there like a Roman empress summoning a slave, Lara continued.
“We all live here in this house, me and all my girls. The boys are special guests today, like you. You see, I own the wrestling club and the girls work for me. Plus they get free room and board. But there are rules and everyone has chores. We keep a weekly list and if there are so many infractions, that person has to pay a little penalty. She must act as maid for a day and serve everyone else. And, for each tick, or demerit, she gets three licks with my little attitude adjuster here.”
Gina now stood to Lara’s right side. “Now, Gina has been rather naughty – how many demerits do you have dear?”
“Six,” said Gina in a small voice, then she started to protest. “But it’s not fair. I didn’t deserve all of them.”
“Oh, right, Gina baby. You got six – and all your own fault,” said a lush brunette whose name Bruce didn’t know. Others chimed in too. The consensus seemed to be that she deserved what she was going to get.
“Six,” said Lara, shaking her head. “My, my, girl. That’s too bad.” She slapped her thighs. “Time to pay up, then. Hand momma the strap and get across momma’s knee.”
Bruce now understood. Lara acted not only as employer but also as some sort of house mother to this bevy of young women who lived in her house as if they were a sorority of some sort. His eyes grew wide as the pretty Gina clambered over Lara’s thighs face down. Her bottom jutted up and the tiny French maid skirt rode up her backside, half exposing diaphanous black panties set off by a garter belt and hose of the same color. Bruce felt his groin tighten and his cock stiffened, pushing against his slacks, making a tent.
The others who were watching exhibited various reactions. Some were clearly excited to see one of their own getting a licking. Others bit their lips, perhaps in empathy with the unfortunate Gina. Still others chuckled in amusement at seeing the pretty girl taken down a peg.
For Bruce it was arousing. He had to catch his breath as Lara skinned down the tiny panties leaving Gina’s shapely bottom gloriously bare. The cheeks jiggled slightly as Lara shifted her position. Then she hefted the strap.
“Eighteen licks, Gina. You know the rules. No jumping around, no squirming away. That will only mean extras.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Gina.
Lara patted Gina’s bottom a time or two then raised her arm to deliver the first lick. It fell, landing square across Gina’s lush bottom summits with a loud crack. Gina squealed.
Crack! “Ahh...woo!” yelped Gina, as another swat landed.
Crack! “Yow!” Cried Gina.
Smack! Another solid stroke made her fanny ripple.
The licking continued to fall in a methodical fashion. Lara took her time. She applied the strap deftly with several seconds between spanks. Gina yelped lustily. She flinched and clenched, reacting to each solid crack with the strap, but she remained in position. The strap’s impacts caused the flesh of her bottom to ripple. Gina threw her head back, and bucked, her feet flying up behind her as each smack rang out.
Smack! The strap flattened the rounded cheeks.
Smack! A hard crack right at the base of her buttocks.
Crack! Gina yowled and fluttered her feet.
When all eighteen had been delivered, Lara set Gina on her feet. Gina bent over and drew air through her teeth with a painful hiss as she tried to rub the sting out her bottom cheeks. Lara told her to pull her panties up and with a last smack of her palm sent Gina scooting off to put the strap back where it belonged, a place all the girls were, no doubt, very familiar with.
Lara stood and, along with everyone else watched the red-bottomed Gina beat a hasty retreat to the house, strap in hand. She slapped her hands together in a display of having accomplished a much needed chore, then announced, “All right everyone. Time for the main event.” They moved as a group over to the mat that had been spread out on the lawn and spaced themselves around it to get a good look.
We'll be there too, next week, right on time.
He didn’t want to wait around, so he left and went outside. He had no idea what he wanted to do and by default took to strolling aimlessly down the street. An idea struck as he chanced upon a street vendor selling flowers. That’s the ticket, he thought. He bought a bouquet and made his way back to the club.
As promised, the doorman recognized him and led him around a different way, backstage toward the dressing rooms.
“They liked you, man,” said the doorman. “Not many guys get invited back to the dressing room after a show. Yeah, they maybe got their eyes on you.”
“That’s a good thing isn’t it?” said Bruce. “Do they ever date guys? You know -- let you take them out?”
The doorman chuckled. “From what I’ve heard it’s not exactly like that. They like some guys, certain types of guys. Mostly, nice polite types like yourself who are, let’s say, obedient. But they are peculiar, I’ve heard, so watch yourself. Me, I get nervous around gals like them.”
He showed him the door and left. Bruce stood there for a moment, flower bouquet in his hand, wondering if he should knock. He was nervous. Finally he did.
The door was opened by Tawny DeVille.
“Well, look what we have here, Lara. Our friend from the show.” She opened the door and ushered him in.
Bruce gulped. He’d never seen so much feminine pulchritude so openly displayed. There were nearly a dozen women in various stages of undress casually milling around, packing costumes away and preparing to dress. Mostly they were in underwear, just bras and panties. Bruce tried not to stare.
Lara, who Bruce recognized as Madame X, came forward.
“Hello. Bruce is it?”
Bruce nodded and proffered the flowers.
She took them. “How nice. You’re a thoughtful boy.” She turned around. “See what a thoughtful young man he is? I told you. Francine,” she said addressing a stunning brunette, “find some water, could you?”
Francine smiled and took the flowers.
“You were a good sport, young man. You were not going to beat Tawny, you know. All my ladies are body builders, and they all know how to wrestle.”
Bruce could see that. They all looked athletic with well-developed legs, arms and shoulders. But that did not detract from their womanly charms one bit. Despite the intimidation factor they were all hot. Waists were tiny and breasts and buttocks were full and rounded. Bruce found himself sporting an erection which he tried to will into submission lest they see his state and disapprove.
Lara sat Bruce down and introduced him to several of the girls. Tawny DeVille was Jen. The lush redhead who’d been paddled was Virginia. Francine was a gorgeous brunette. They all chatted him up for a few minutes, one at a time. Bruce almost got the feeling that it was an interview. They asked him if he was married, whether he had a girlfriend, did he go to clubs often? Bruce truthfully answered no to all these questions and the girls seemed pleased with his answers.
Finally Lara came back over and sat down next to Bruce, her thigh touching his. She leaned in close and whispered, “I enjoyed spanking you Bruce. You have a nice tight boy butt. I hope it wasn’t too hard.” She giggled.
Bruce blushed and swallowed. Her feminine presence, so close to him was unnerving. “No, it was – I mean you didn’t… it was ok, really. Actually it was kind of nice.” He attempted a sophisticated chuckle. “It was hot, if you really want to know.”
“Really?” said Lara. She tossed her head back, now very interested. “Have you been spanked by a woman before?” She drew the question out and smiled broadly.
Bruce froze. How could he admit that the last woman to spank him had been his mom and he’d been a teenager at the time? How embarrassing was that? He’d stayed too late at a party and had come home smelling of beer and smoke. His mother, a strict and demanding matriarch, had met him at the door. Bruce made the mistake of sassing her. It was the one and only time he did, because his mother marched him upstairs, took him into her bedroom and sat on a chest at the foot of her bed while he stood. She scolded him for several minutes before grabbing her hairbrush off her vanity table. Then she issued the dreaded command that made his blood freeze, “Bruce Hanson Davis, take your pants down and get over my knee. You are getting the spanking of your life. You won’t sass me again, ever, young man.”
Despite his pleading and apologies, his mother was unmoved. Mother ran the house and once she issued a command, that was it. You obeyed. She put him over her knee as if he were a child of ten, not a mature teenager. The spanking he got with that hard hairbrush was the last, and possibly the worst, licking he’d ever received. And he’d received more than a few. The hard wood smacked his bare fanny over and over until he was a sobbing and contrite mess of a little boy. His momma spanked long, pausing at times to lecture, the lecture punctuated with sharp spanks with the brush. The searing burn was unimaginable, overwhelming him with pain and shame. It lasted a good five minutes, and when it finally ended he had hopped up and down frantically, trying to rub the sting out of his blazing bottom while tears poured from his eyes. As his mother had intended, that had taken him down a peg or two.
No, he didn’t want to tell Lara about that.
“Uh, no,” he lied, blushing beet red.
“Mmm,” she mused. “I see. So it was something new.” Then she changed the subject. “How did you feel about losing the wrestling match to a woman?”
Bruce shrugged, but the question got his dander up. “Ok, she knew some tricks. But I still think I’m stronger.”
That got a reaction. Several of the girls turned around and laughed.
Lara chuckled. “You do, do you? Well then, care for a rematch?”
Bruce, stung by the girls’ reactions, said, “Sure, why not? She surprised me that first time is all. I bet I’d win if we did it again.”
Lara flashed a broad smile. “Ok, then. Come over to our place Sunday afternoon. We have a swimming pool.” Then she added with a grin, “But swimming suits are optional. We’ll have a rematch, you and Tawny. And we’ll have a little wager.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. What now?
“If you win, Tawny is your slave for the day. She will do anything you ask.” Then Lara leaned her head in close to Bruce and looked him straight in the eyes. “And I mean anything.” She leaned back and called to Tawny, “Isn’t that right Tawny?”
“That’s right,” said Tawny. She’d been standing there, hands on hips, listening. “Mmmm…you can have me any way you want, Bruce.”
“And if I lose?” Bruce swallowed again. He had the impression of a lioness stalking a gazelle, the way she eyed him.
“If you lose – let’s see.” She tapped her finger against her lip, thinking. “I know. How about a spanking on your bare butt and you agree to be our houseboy for the day and serve us at our whim. How about that?”
A bare butt spanking? Yow! Thought Bruce. Then he looked at Tawny’s hot hardbody figure and that come hither smile. His cock surged. Damn! He was sure had not mistaken Lara’s meaning. This whole thing had just jumped to a new level.
“You’re on,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
Next week we join Bruce as he goes backstage for...who knows what?The Wrestling Ladies - Part 1
When Bruce was invited out by the guys in the shop he was elated. Finally, they had decided to include him in their group. He knew he was not regarded as a cool guy, but he wanted to be accepted as one of the gang. They were a cool bunch of guys from work--Brad, Jim, Harry and Nick, and now he got to join them.
"We know this really outrageous place, you'll love it," Jim told him. "It's like, a wrestling joint, you know, with chicks in bikinis wrestling each other. It is hot. You won't frickin' believe it."
That sounded good to Bruce. He could see himself laughing and carrying on with the rest of the guys as they howled at the wrestling chicks. Because that’s all he really wanted – to be one the guys.
They picked him up in Jim's car and the five of them drove to this club. It was garishly lit on the outside. Lots of neon, signs that said "Girls!" and "Nude" flashed at him as they drove up. Inside were tables set on levels and arranged around a stage, amphitheater-style. The stage had ropes like a boxing ring. The guys ordered drinks and settled in for night of fun.
Bruce felt like he'd finally arrived. This was great--whooping it up with his new buddies. He probably had a few drinks too many, though, but was having such a good time that it just felt euphoric. The lights dimmed and an announcer came out. Much to the delight of the mostly male crowd, two busty babes, one blonde, one brunette, in abbreviated bikinis were introduced as the first match of the evening. The guys hooted and hollered as they went at each other with gusto. At one point the brunette ripped off the blonde's top to roars of approval. The blonde retaliated by pinning the brunette face down and spanking her luscious bottom while she wriggled and pounded the floor with her hands.
This set the stage for the next bout--a paddling match. The MC announced that the loser of the next match would have to take a full 10 licks with the "attitude adjuster". This time the contestants were a statuesque redhead and an athletic blonde. Both were well-built and hot. Then he brought out "Madame X" who would apply the "attitude adjuster" to the lush tail of the loser. Madame X was a sight. She was six feet tall in high heels and wore a black corset with thigh-high PVC boots. A solidly built Amazon of a woman, she nonetheless had curves in all the right places. Wearing a mask like Catwoman, she carried this black leather paddle with holes in it, making a circuit of the ring holding up the paddle for all to see. The place went wild with guys hooting and clapping.
The two contestants squared off. Both were wearing brief thongs that left them nearly bare and the sight of bouncing breasts and buttocks as they tussled was hypnotic to the mostly male crowd. The rowdy audience rooted for its favorites, mindful of the fact that there was to be an interesting forfeit for the loser.
Bruce rooted for the blonde--not because he wanted her to win, so much as he wanted the redhead to lose. He was looking forward to seeing her lush buns spanked with Madame X's paddle. After two rounds of furious tussling, the blonde did get the upper hand and pinned the unfortunate red haired girl.
The guys wildly for the blonde as the announcer raised up her hand in triumph. "The winner...Trina! and our loser is ...Tess. Ohhh, Tess, Madame X would like to see you now," said the MC, hamming it up for all he was worth.
Tess looked genuinely apprehensive as she beheld Madame X crooking her finger, motioning for Tess to come to the center of the ring. As the crowd hollered, Tess turned her back and bent over dutifully grabbing her knees. Madame X grabbed her around the waist, almost holding her under her arm. With her beautifully rounded posterior sticking up nicely, Tess absorbed 10 hearty smacks of the paddle, each one laid on slowly and with much fanfare by the imperious Madame X. Tess' bouncing buns jiggled at each swat from the paddle, and judging by her shrill yelps and the redness infusing her seat, they were real paddle swats.
By this time Bruce had a raging hard-on and was well lubricated as well.
"Man, that gal really got her tail fanned," said Jim.
"No way would I want that to be me," added Nick.
"I don't know," said Bruce, "maybe it was fake--special effects or something."
"Oh?" said Harry, eyebrows raised. "You think it was fake?"
"I dunno," drawled Bruce, now unsure of himself. "It just didn't look like that big a deal."
"I don't know, Bruce," said Jim, "they claim these paddlings are the real thing." Then he grinned. "Maybe there's a way to find out."
The MC was back now and with him was a tall, well built blonde. She had closely cropped hair and a trim athletic body. Bruce noticed the high set but not overly large breasts and the long well muscled legs. She looked like she did weight training. The broad shoulders and toned arms looked powerful. She was quite alluring, and in her two piece bikini there was not much left to the imagination. To Bruce it seemed like she looked more fit than the others. Bruce didn't see an opponent.
"What's going on? Who's she going to wrestle?"
The rest of the guys smiled at each other--like they had seen this before, but Nick said, "Hell, I dunno. Do you know, Jim?"
"Beats me," said Jim.
Their attention shifted at the sound of the MC's voice.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have come to the part of the evening that you have all been waiting for--our challenge match." The room erupted with applause and cheers. Clearly, Bruce mused, this was a crowd favorite.
"That's right, Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we issue a challenge--to anyone, male or female, who can defeat our champion, our own--Terrible Tawny DeVille." The place went wild. The MC waited for the hooting and cheering to die down.
"If there are any among you who will dare wrestle Terrible Tawny, a reward awaits you. I will give $500, that's right, folks, $500 to the man or woman who can pin Tawny DeVille."
As the room erupted again, Jim said," How about it Bruce, think you can take her?"
"Yeah, Bruce, how 'bout you, you're a strong guy. Wow, $500 is good money."
"C'mon Bruce, she's just a girl."
Bruce was feeling no pain, but, wow, wrestle a girl? Still $500 was not bad.
"But that's it, Jim, Nick, she's a girl."
"Well, if you're chicken..." Nick didn't have to finish.
Bruce stood up. Waved his arms. "Here, me....hey...over here."
The announcer saw him. "There, right, there. The gentleman standing. Come on down, sir."
Bruce grinned and sauntered down to the stage.
The MC stuck a microphone in his face. "And your name is?"
"Uh, Bruce." Bruce was grinning like an idiot. His buddies were cheering him on.
"Very good, Bruce. Tell me--are you ready to wrestle? Are you ready, for the grand prize of $500, to take on our lovely Tawny Deville?"
"Yeah. I'm game."
"He's game, folks. We have a challenger."
Bruce raised his hands as the crowd hooted.
"OK, Bruce. Let me explain the rules of our little contest. It's one round. You wrestle until one of you is pinned or you holler 'uncle'. There is no punching or kicking or hitting But if you lose” And here he paused for effect. “Your fate awaits you...and it is terrible one indeed."
Cheering erupted, but a cold chill crept up Bruce's back.
"If you lose, you have an appointment with Madame X—and her paddle. Ten hearty swats.” He smiled broadly. Did Bruce hear that right? Get spanked by Madame X? He was stunned. He almost didn’t hear the next part.
“Do you accept the challenge? Do you dare?"
Oh my God, thought Bruce, but it was too late. He couldn't back out now. The crowd was roaring and Bruce knew that his buddies were waiting to see if he would chicken out.
"Y-yes, I'll do it," he said somewhat weakly. What had he gotten himself into? He flushed, chagrinned as he contemplated the embarrassing prospect of being paddled by that woman.
They took Bruce backstage and fitted him in a brief Speedo that had him blushing at how ridiculous he looked. He felt nearly naked. When he emerged back into the lights amid howls and jeers, the first thing he saw was Tawny DeVille standing in the middle of the ring, hands on her hips with a wide grin on her face.
They faced off. A bell clanged. Bruce had no idea what to do. The whole thing was terrifying now. He shuffled around, arms outstretched, emulating what he thought he’d seen wrestlers do. Tawny DeVille just smiled and waited. Finally Bruce decided that he had to do something. So he lunged in. His opponent grabbed his wrist and swept her foot behind his. They fell to the mat in a heap. Bruce felt her grab him from the rear in some sort of hold. At the same time he could feel her, her breasts crushing against his back. He managed to turn it around and fell on top of her in a parody of a sexual position. Bruce tried to pin her, but she slipped away and dropped him again, this time sitting on his face. His nose was almost up her crotch. He could smell the musky scent of her. He brought his hands up and palmed her buttocks, trying to push her off. She reversed her position and laid her body across his chest. By now Bruce was exhausted. He had nothing left. Tawny DeVille pressed his shoulders down and pinned him. The bell rang.
Tawny DeVille stood up, victorious. She even extended her hand and pulled Bruce to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs.
“And the winner is---our own Tawny DeVille!” The announcer boomed it out with glee. Bruce tried to regain control of his breathing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the formidable figure of Madame X entering the ring—with her paddle.
“And nowwww---“ The announcer leered at Bruce. “---Our unfortunate loser must take his licks. Madame X, if you will.”
Madame X put her foot on a stool at the center of the ring and crooked her finger at Bruce. The whole place was coming down, shouting and screaming at Madame X, Bruce and everyone else. Bruce tentatively came forward. Good grief, the woman was big and built. No question-- she was all woman, with all the requisite curves, but she had the muscles of a bodybuilder.
She lifted Bruce like he was a rag doll and put him over her propped up knee. Bruce hung there, his butt pointed skyward and his legs waving in the air. Then, WHAP! The paddle smacked his ass and he jumped. It stung! The crowd roared its approval.
WHACK! He got another one. Yow! His ass stung even worse. The heat was beginning to build. He realized then that the paddle was made of some springy material that not only made a lot of noise but generated some real heat.
Smack! Another one made him kick his legs back. Crack! Good grief! His butt was ablaze.
Still, six more swats with that paddle to come, and he was feeling it. His behind really burned, reminding him of childhood spankings from the past, how the sting would make him burst into tears begging his mom to stop. But it didn’t stop until he had all ten solidly applied licks. When it was over Madame X put Bruce on his feet and slyly patted his behind. She whispered in his ear, “You’re a good sport. Come backstage after the show. I’ll let the doorman know.”
Bruce didn’t know what to make of that. He was escorted back to a dressing room where he rubbed his burning buttocks, trying to put out the fire. He put his street clothes back on and while the next match was going on, he slipped back in to watch. He didn’t feel much like rejoining his supposed friends. Obviously, this had been a set up and he had fallen for it. It made him sad, but there was one bright spot. He had been invited backstage. That caused a little flutter of arousal. The wrestling match had actually made him hard. All that body contact with a hot number like Tawny DeVille, the feeling of rubbing up against breasts and buttocks with various body parts. The paddling had been arousing too, and he thought that odd. There was just a warm glow in his seat now that was making him randy as hell. All he knew was that he would very much like to see these women again.
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